


the room, the sun and the sky

by sequeltolife



Series: life is a test and i get bad marks [3]
Category: Gintama
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Bisexual Gintoki, Character Study, Depression, Dissociation, Family Bonding, Flashbacks, Gen, Gintoki is half amanto, Implied/Referenced Torture, Joui War, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Suicidal Thoughts, Swearing, Yorozuya Family, mentioned but still ur welcome, uh MURDER
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:14:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26726518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sequeltolife/pseuds/sequeltolife
Summary: Gintoki was born half Amanto cursed with slow ageing, but Shouyou helps him seal his powers so he can have a chance at growing up. Post Shogun spoilers, includes Gintoki during the war, coping afterwards, meeting Otose, the Yorozuya bonding and the kids getting a glimpse into Gintoki's past and struggles.
Relationships: Kagura & Sakata Gintoki & Shimura Shinpachi, Katsura Kotarou & Sakata Gintoki, Otose | Terada Ayano & Sakata Gintoki
Series: life is a test and i get bad marks [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/307767
Comments: 15
Kudos: 68





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> wow so I've been working on and off for 5 yrs on this fuckin thing so hello I hope u enjoy my hobby work. basically just me writing something I always wanted to read.   
> the works prior in this collection don't really need to be read, but the one before this details Shouyou and Gin meeting, and the first is my Gintoki's parents ocs I wrote when I was like 15.   
> enjoy
> 
> warnings : swearing like a lot, ptsd , mild suicidal thoughts, flashbacks, suicidal ideation, IDK MURDER, bisexual gintoki ur welcome, mentions of shouyou and shinsingumi arc

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _"Love_   
>  _I said real love, it's like feeling no fear_   
>  _When you're standing in the face of danger_   
>  _'Cause you just want it so much"_

For more than a year, Gintoki had thought that his red-stained vision might be a permanent thing now and that the stupid sword wasn't doing its job properly.

As a child, young and alone, there had been periods before Shouyou where he had been in such an emotional state during dangerous situations that his vision had been tainted. It didn't matter what stood before him (other Amanto, samurai, a snake once) as long as it terrified him. It was as if blood-stained glass had been placed in front of his eyes, and instead of it enhancing his sight like one should hope for with awesome half-Amanto abilities, it was the opposite. It had blurred the faces of the people around him. A giant, red fishbowl had been placed over his head; he couldn't hear anything but the sound of his breathing and the dull thud of blood pounding in his ears. It had allowed him not to see the spray of blood until they were all dead and he was alone. That was before Shouyou had found that damned book and cast that spell under the moonlight, and sealed all those powers away.

And if Gin was honest with himself, he would know that fighting here and now, fighting for the men around him, for Shouyou, was nothing like those times by himself. He would know that now, the red wasn't from those "special abilities" that allowed him to kill without seeing it at all. It was from the bodies around him, people he recognized and humans and Amanto he didn't, that had all slayed eachother or died in the hurricane that seemed to rotate around him. And if he was being really, _really,_ honest to God honest, he would say that it wasn't red he was seeing. The smoke around him, the different shades of blood from different species that seemed to coat this battlefield, was a smorgasboard to his vision. It had been as it was before he had Shouyou, and as it was now without him: black and white.

The worst part about it all, the one thing that made his stomach clench at the disgust he had for himself as well as made his heart pound and blood boil like nothing else could, it was that he _enjoyed_ the fighting. He could brush it all off, the cheering of the soldiers around him when they won, the chanting of his newfound nickname, the looks that Takasugi and Katsura gave him when they thought they were one step closer to their sensei. He could tell them with a straight face that the reason he went into battle was because of their teacher, but could not tell them what really made him survive it. That, he told no one and vowed to never tell anybody, even Shouyou if they ever got back to him. He survived, he fought with the strength of any demon or monster people compared him to, because somewhere, throughout that fight he _enjoyed_ the blood he spilled. There was nothing like knowing he was the strongest on the field, nothing could touch him or bring him down. And if they did manage to land an arrow, get a lucky slice in his flesh, they all died knowing it was the last thing they did and that it didn't slow him down at all.

Gintoki grips Shouyou's katana in his hand tight, and he no longer needs to worry about the slick blood loosening his hold on it. He had held it for long enough that it was now an extension of his arm, and if they wanted him to drop it they would have to cut off his hand. It had to be days now that this certain fight had been going; hell, it felt like weeks, and Gintoki didn't know how he would get back up after falling asleep the minute it was over. He will try to keep to himself later, not trusting anybody not to see how he didn't really _care_ if he woke up, like it was written all over his face. These thoughts of later did nothing to help him now; the Amanto were endlessly coming, but for a moment it seemed like they were just as tired as he was and he took in the sounds around him. The screaming of soldiers and the sometimes deafening roar of creatures he'd never seen before seemed to override everything. The laser cannons on the floating ship above them didn't make a sound when they fired; there was only the instant heat of it and feeling as if the top layer of your skin had been incinerated if you were close, or the quickest sunburn ever no matter how far away. Gintoki could laugh about it now, pressing his back into the only other warm body he could trust right here, right now. The first time he had witnessed the cannon beam, the light sabre, whatever you wanted to call it, it was so bright it seemed to cut through all the smoke and his senses. It was so distracting, it seemed to be the only time that the enemy around him could touch him, the only time he _noticed_ the pain. Now it was just another streak of white to his black canvas. What a joke that it even scared him before. It either killed you or it didn't; you were either fighting or running away. This day only had two ends: they strike out that ship or they run away, but retreating together wasn't such a bad idea with odds like this.

He felt the body behind his push back at his shaking shoulders and the low voice of his friend reached him despite the deafening sounds of battle. "What are you laughing about? We're about to die." Katsura Koutaru paused for a moment before continuing, his voice a lot smaller but heard nonetheless. "Insead of being slaughtered by these monsters let's cut our bellies and die like true samurai."

Gintoki couldn't help but scoff at his words, pushing his fist into the wet-soaked earth to leverage himself up. "Shut up. If you have time to fantasise about a beautiful death, why don't you live beautifully to the end?" He couldn't help but mutter under his breath, unsure if Zura heard or not. "I sure as hell ain't dying on my knees."

He could only think of the years he spent with Shouyou growing up. Actually growing up; getting to laugh with him about the weird shit like growing hair downstairs and pressing him on the 'what the fuck' of morning wood. About gaining the inches of height he had once thought he'd never get, feeling the pain in his legs and arms as his bones stretched, watching his face change as he added a digit every year. It was almost funny, a secret game that they had; a joke to be played on everyone else as they saw a young boy when he really knew so much more, saw more years than his age presumed. Gintoki didn't know how many years he had spent alone, it was closer to 15 than his six-year old appearance gave away. Not to mention years in the woods kind of blended together as the trees did. That didn't matter anyway, just those years he spent with Shouyou. He could turn to them, forget everything around him and just relish in the memories he spent with Zura and Takasugi, just getting to be a kid, or to the times that he just followed Shouyou around- the comfort of having someone who loved you look out for you, he could let everything crumble away until it was just them.

That would never save Zura on the battlefield now, where everything was muted but them. He needed to save Zura at least before he let himself die, he would save everyone else on this damn front that he could because he still could. Maybe afterwards he could fall asleep and just, sleep until he stopped breathing. But if that didn't happen, he would get up and help any way he could. Help some of these kids get back to their parents, their wives, their kids. Shouyou would want him to, before his kids came back to him.

He was in his own head for a short while before he heard Zura scoff back and stand up, and he just knew Zura was raising his own sword the same time Gin did. Just the same as he knew that when he said "Let's go, Zura", he heard the smile in "My name is Katsura!".

They got away that time, along with at least a dozen men. Less than Gintoki had hoped for, but he could only shove down that feeling with 'at least they're alive'. Takasugi survived as well, clothes tattered and torn and looking like he was going to fall over, but he was wiping his wet blade dutifully without a care in the world otherwise. Zura couldn't help but sit beside him and do the same thing. Inside him, something told him that everything was ruined. Zura saying what he had said, no more hope left in his voice. The expression on Takasugi's face told the same thing, and he couldn't bear to stand any of it. Gintoki thought it was okay for him to feel hopeless, he shouldered that thinking he could shield them from that black hole feeling. Now it was apparent; it didn't mean a damn thing, what he thought, what he felt. After two years of searching, they had all been affected. Every day that idea got stronger, the idea that maybe Shouyou wasn't alive, had probably died months ago, and here they were; fighting for nothing, but themselves. His fists shook with something he couldn't name, something that made him tear his arm out of Zura's grip when he went to walk away. He would rest somewhere else, somewhere closer to… whatever he was looking for. Peace and quiet without the silent "We're dead, but save him for us, okay Gintoki?" was all he needed right now.

The promise he had made to both Shouyou and Takasugi to save the other was weighing on both shoulders, and the feeling of being crushed was overwhelming.

It felt real enough, that when he awoke on the rooftop alone and everything inside him felt like it had disintegrated. His heart, Shouyou, turned to dust, along with his spine and backbone, and everything else around him, destroyed. Gintoki didn't want to get up, didn't want to fight in the battle they were so desperately losing. Sakamoto knew it, Zura and Takasugi knew it even if they wouldn't admit it, and he knew it. They had to see the inevitable end of their path; destruction. Whether it was collateral of being around him or not, the shame was enough to want to be buried.

* * *

Barely a week later, Gintoki made the choice. Takasugi, the fool, should have known that a pupil always listens to his master in the end. And Gintoki knew that the last thing that his fellow disciple saw in that left eye was his clean, single strike. He'd had plenty of experience of lobbing off heads, they all had, but never like this. Not executioner style, which he supposed he was now. He couldn't bear to look at them even when he knew Takasugi would lose his eye, and heard Zura fall to the ground almost the same time Shouyou's head did. He just stared at his body as it fell to the ground, and knew he could give this father a better burial than he gave his other parents. At the time, he wasn't aware of his tears leaving streaks in the blood and dirt on his face. All he could feel was his heart die, truly, and he wanted to beg, let a man die with his father. He had it now, mortality, and why shouldn't he get to cash it in? The urge to cut his own throat was so overwhelming his fingers tightened on the scabbard and his arm jerked a mere centimeter when something stopped him cold. Was it not a "get out of jail" free card, was he not cheating at life? He had always wanted to be like Shouyou, and suddenly all he could imagine was the look he would get if he left this life early instead of just 'being' like Shouyou had wanted for him in the first place. He lowered the blade back to his side.

When the crow bastards finally left, Zura patched Takasugi up while Gintoki hacked at the dirt with his sword, Shouyou's sword. The fuckers couldn't even leave them a fucking shovel, and he fed on this anger until, before he knew it, he was swinging at the ground like a miner with the fervor of a madman. When the topsoil was loose, he scooped and dug at the ground with his bare hands, using the sword like a shovel to stab at tough spots in the dirt. When Zura approached to help, Gintoki couldn't help but turn and snarl, baring his teeth like the beast he was, before remembering he was hiding in the body of a boy barely a man. Zura had just as much a right to bury him, and Gin had the least of all. He pursed his lips and turned, continuing to dig and ignoring the radiant heat from the body at his back he had long since relished in. Right now, he was the killer. The demon. He should have stayed a child, stayed in the insipid life of a nobody scavenging corpses.

When the hole was wide enough to lay his body down, minus the length of his head, but at least six feet deep, he took off his overcoat and wrapped his head in it, gently as if handling a baby. After he placed the head at the bottom of the grave, sitting in its owner's lap, he pulled himself out and stripped himself of his armour. His breastplate, unbuckled, fell to the ground, scarcely missing the toes that he exposed a moment later. Everything that wasn't the shirt and pants was discarded, his knuckle guards along with his forearm and lower leg plates, the band around his forehead. He would later regret taking off his shoes, but at the time he just wanted to drop everything. Shouyou was gone, and nothing was really worth carrying anymore. His promise had been kept, his duty fulfilled, and he was now left with nothing, which is just what he started with and he shouldn't be surprised.

But it still fucking hurt.

He went over to where he had thrown the sword that he'd called his for so long and when he picked it up it inspired none of the feeling that it had before. Before, during a fight, it filled him with courage. It wasn't just something to have in his hand, it was something to hold on to, to hold onto the memory of who wielded it first. It was his anchor, to his teacher and to his humanity. Now, it was just a weapon, a weapon that weighed him down with the knowledge of what he'd just done with it. He threw it in the grave before he could think twice about it. He knew he wouldn't regret it though; he would live and grow old, and die as he was meant to do. When he turned around, his face was schooled into a blank mask as he made eye contact with two he had once called brothers. When he felt their eyes search his face and watched as Takasugi grew furious, he knew he'd given nothing away. It would all be taken to the grave. That's how it was meant to be. Why burden the backs of these boys barely sixteen, children practically, when he had at least nine years on them? The big brother's duty was to do what he did, but now it was time to let them live, develop their own code. He couldn't fix any more than he destroyed, like he knew he would.

When Gintoki spoke, his voice was low, but even and clear like they've just buried a goldfish instead of the only real father they've ever known. "I've paid my respects. You two can finish the job," he made eye contact one last time before saying a short "see ya", turning and leaving. He had to force his shoulders to be unwavering and let their voices calling after him tune out. They could have been mosquitos buzzing above his head, because after years together, they were only worth the wave of a hand. "Thank you" was still ringing in his ears, loud enough to drown everything else.

Neither of them saw him for ten years.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> " _i still am full of hate, i still am full of pride._  
>  _when it's all that you need  
>  cuz it's all that you got,  
> then it's all that you want  
> and it's all that i'm not_"

After the war, Gintoki just… meandered. He had no purpose but eat, drink, piss, shit, sleep, repeat. It didn't matter where he did these things, whether he was hidden in the farmer's fields or storage sheds, or in dirty alleyways. It was all the same to him now, he didn't really give a shit. He felt disconnected from the rest of the world; people seemed to move around him like he was a trash can in the city, it didn't matter that once he had been fighting to try and save people like that, or their family members. Nothing mattered. Samurai were getting executed left and right, all those who participated in the war were being sought out and left to rot. He didn't mean to get missed, he didn't think it was all that bad to die like that, but others still died around him. It didn't matter.

Those years were dark and blurry for Gintoki. He never did anything illegal, would resort to eating garbage then steal again just to avoid the coppers, and he often found menial comfort in the woods as he once did. The pull of cities was too strong in the end. He always ended up there in fear of disconnecting from humanity completely. His promise to Shoyou would be broken in a way if he went, well, full feral, like he'd been as a child. In the end that was what got him caught by the police; that and him not being able to watch some asshole sell out his daughter, aaaand his big mouth.

Time blurred as well inside of prison as outside of prison. Now his routine was to starve, dehydrate, get beat, sleep, occasionally talk to a little girl, repeat. He didn't really give a shit about where he was or where he was going, more mild torture or the chopping block. He almost enjoyed getting waterboarded; fuck he was so thirsty, plus he didn't mind being on that cusp of unconsciousness. He never sleeps anymore, he missed when he didn't dream. Gintoki knew he made the right choice with the girl. That was that.

So he thought.

The intrusion of the warden on one of his beatings was a surprise, especially when he told them to tone it down. He'd always thought the guys in these positions of power must be sadists, must be here to watch and maybe get in a few hits. It was even more of a surprise when he visited him at his cell in the night and just. Let him out.

Gintoki didn't think he could get very far, but he managed to find a low-key district that was already busy with drifters. He was definitely starving, and his feet had stopped burning with cold a few blocks ago, and even with his thin yukata he'd walked out of jail with, everything was numb. At least he had a mop of thick curly hair to protect his poor ears. When he found the cemetery, he couldn't help but be drawn to it. He needed to see if there was a place that was quiet enough to let him rest for a bit. There were just lots of stone memorials, but nothing covered. No matter, he found one nice and secluded in the back that was good to lean on. He didn't even feel his wet ass in the snow, let alone what heat he had leaving him. There was nothing left for him to give. Where was he to go? He stayed there long enough the falling snow covered his lap and his tracks from before. It was so quiet here, nice. If he strained his ears hard enough and kept his eyes closed, he could almost hear two young boys teasing and an older man laughing, a familiar, comforting sound.

He didn't even hear her approach the grave until she was speaking to it, or more specifically, the bones underneath it. Something about manjū that he could smell almost as if in a dream. If they could splurge on the cash, Shouyou used to buy something similar. When he opened his mouth it was as dry as bone, but it didn't take long for him to start salivating at the mental image. He'd heard from somebody on the battlefront about Pavlov's dog and he didn't feel any shame at the similarity. It fact, it was fucking hilarious. He would gargle some water laying down from some pigs, and he would beg on his knees to eat from some grandma. Or he would harass her. Gintoki was too desperate to really care which.

She finished her prayers, and the snow crunched underneath her heels as she rocked back. It was now, or ever hold his peace, or whatever.

"Hey, Granny," he rasped, dry as a sandal dragging on stone. "Are those manjū?" He knew damn well what they were, "Could i have them? I'm about to keel over from starvation."

Might as well be honest if he was going to take them from a grave. He looked down at himself, stretching out a leg a little to regain the feeling a little bit. He was covered with dried blood head to toe, pulling at the hair of his bare arms and legs uncomfortably. The silence stretched on, but he didn't hear her running away. He could still almost hear Zura teasing Takasugi, while the other snarks back. Soft laughter was just out of range, and if he tilted his head he could almost hear-

"These are for my husband. You'll have to ask him."

Gintoki couldn't believe his luck. Ask a dead man if he was gonna eat that? The woman was old and must be senile- who knew when she'd lost her husband. Most likely to war, to which he'd personally spent a lot of time sitting with men like that. Ate with, watched backs for, shared scavenged food with and slept beside. If he'd asked any one of those many soldiers he'd met over those two years for some manjū 'cause he was about to flop, he could hear the answer clear as day 'cause he'd heard it a thousand times before. His fingers grazed around the stone altar until he felt the small plate she'd brought them on. Almost falling over to pull them around and towards himself, he began stuffing them into his mouth as soon as his numb fingers cooperated. The old lady waited until he swallowed them. Very polite.

"So what did my husband say? Can you guess what he said?" Her voice was almost amused instead of affronted which was a good sign. In his mind's eye, the black and white battlefield he spent a good half of his life in, he could see into the endless sockets of a dead man and felt comfort. It was the best thing about corpses he'd learned as a boy. He looked at the sky, and knew there was only one thing to do.

"Why would a corpse say anything? But I repay my debts." The clouds shifted, letting sunlight illuminate the snow like glittering diamonds. He hadn't seen something so beautiful in months, had maybe lost the eye for it years ago. "Your old lady probably doesn't have much time left so i'll make sure she gets back to you safely."

* * *

Can someone ever get used to actions of sympathy? Because Gintoki had become numb to the guilt (or just good at masking it- he couldn't remember) of being lucky to survive, but couldn't get used to strangers looking at him and thinking 'i'm going to help that'. Looking at a man half feral, exposed in the snow with nothing but a conman attitude and a threadbare yukata, covered in blood; who in their right mind thinks that's a good idea? Otose seemed to think so, and one look at her said she was everything but feeble. That was the old lady who insisted he come live at her Snack Shop. She had a stern look, but he could tell instantly she was big softy inside. Probably fed the stray cats in her alley with good cream or something. When they got there, Otose had grabbed him by the ear and dragged him to a low stool to cut his hair. After that, she pushed him towards her bathroom with a shower and told him to figure it out. He'd hadn't bathed in water that wasn't natural rain since the weather turned. It took him so long to figure out the knobs he felt like one. When he got out, feeling cleansed of more than just collected grime and blood, she brought him a few of her late husband's yukatas. The tour upstairs was short before he was left alone, and he thought she trusted too much.

Living above somebody was definitely unusual, but he sort of liked it. Gintoki always liked the advantage of high ground, could never stop thinking about it or at least looking for it. This place was comforting in that, at least. Being big and empty was definitely not a bonus. He would never admit it to anybody that he stuffed a blanket into the closet and slept in there most of the time. He did get some sleep that way; every time a nightmare started, he would thrash. This way, he woke himself up before it could get too bad. After a while he hoped he would train himself out of turning into a wraithing mess on the floor, kicking over furniture or something. Gin could at least put a closet door back in its track.

Until one night, a dream that was a little too vivid of a certain execution.

His arm thrashed out, and before he could rein it back in, he punched the door right in half. It clattered to the ground in what sounded explosive in the early morning. Gintoki shot up in a flash, reaching for a sword that wasn't there. He was panting and sweating, and it was so real he wanted to cry, but he couldn't if he wanted to. Staring at the closet door and thinking about something, anything else. The weird screen box thing in the streets with moving pictures, how there were things blaring noise on every street corner, random ships in the sky that had him humming for a fight, braiding Zura's hair before a battle back when it was silky smooth on his fingers and not matted with blood, beams of light striking out his sight. Eventually, he came back to Earth when he heard people milling about outside. Gintoki brushed his teeth with a toothbrush he found in the cabinet. He carefully avoided looking in the mirror. He needed to talk to the old hag about the door, he would have to pay to fix that.

_With what money? Unless you wanna be turning tricks, you won't be having luck with much else._

Shut up, stupid voice. Otose won't kick you out for that, and that old hag will for sure need help with something. Hopefully, she had something he could fix with his fists.

He eventually headed downstairs. It was an overcast day, mild in its temperature without any wind. Better than the freeze he'd been sitting in not too long ago. The snack shop door rattled open and shut and it smelled like cigarettes inside which was somehow comforting. It helped ground him to reality and she had soft music coming out of a small box on the counter. He hopped up beside the bar and looked longingly at the liquor. He tore his gaze away only when he heard her soft footsteps. She was dressed pretty much the same, with easy makeup and her hair up in a dignified bun with hairpieces to match. Her yukata was put together perfectly, and she always had that no-shit look on her face. Otose just stared at him with an eyebrow raised like she already knew something was up. She probably did; he wasn't exactly quiet when he broke the damn thing. Might as well get it over with.

"I broke the closet door by accident. Can I work to pay for it?" he asked, picking his ear while he did it. He'd never really asked for a job before, but there was a first time for everything.

"So that's what that racket was, huh?" She took a pull of her pipe that just magically seemed to be lit and already smoking. "I have a list of groceries, then I need you to fix the counter in the bathroom. You know how to use a hammer and nails right? Good, my husband's tools should be in the closet down here somewhere."

So that's how the rest of the week went; him doing weird odd jobs for her around the bar; picking up more liquor or snacks, getting groceries and toiletries, fixing little things that had broken over the years. He even served a few customers for her when she needed to sit down for a while, and kicked a few rowdy ones out. It felt good to be doing something repetitively that wasn't just thinking about the same things over and over. Working with his hands made him forget all about it. In that week, he'd dragged his makeshift bed out of the closet and slept in the middle of an empty room that was equal distance between the window and the door, and that both were in eyesight. He'd had less dreams than he'd had in years and more sleep than he'd thought possible.

Gintoki only dissociated twice in front of her, he'd broken down and cried like a baby but she didn't laugh at him. She got him a glass of water, then something stronger and sat with him until he talked. He told her about participating in the war, which took a little coaxing on her part (he was more nervous of implicating her, never forgetting the vital role he played in the resistance), and talked about his 'brothers' he called them. He never mentioned what he'd done, but he mentioned witnessing his father's execution. She patted him and pulled him close and he hadn't felt so comforted since Shouyou. His routine and life almost clicked into place after that, as well as he could with a minor drinking problem.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _"Everyone's so intimately rearranged,_   
>  _Everyone's so focused clearly with such shine,_   
>  _Locked and loaded_   
>  _Still the same ol' decent lazy eye straight through your gaze,-"_

He should have known better than to ever listen to Sougou. Even though he didn't lie about what they were walking into, Gin should have been wise enough to know that nothing good comes from listening to a snot-nosed brat. He had told Gintoki, with a straight blanked face that Kondou had bought too much steak for some god-awful reason (maybe to feed his gorilla relatives and Gintoki did not give enough of a fuck to ask _why_ ), that he'd fed the entire Shinsengumi and still had enough to spare. This had led him to giving it to Otose as it was the only way to get Otae to come without breaking his bones, and that she would be cooking it up for everybody. Everybody only included the Yorozuya, the staff of the Snack House, Otae with her walking eyepatch bodyguard, Sougo, Hijikata and his mayonnaise, and his gorilla boss. Between the two old ladies and Kagura, there would only be gristle left if they were lucky. But there was one other thing that kept nagging at him as he walked with Sougo towards the snack house.

"You sure it was beef?" he glared out the corner of his eye, digging out a ball of wax in his ear. Or maybe he pushed it in farther because he saw Sougo's lips move but didn't hear a damn thing. "Huh? I ain't stupid, y'know!"

Sougo looked at him out of the corner of his eye back, face as impassive as ever, but Gintoki could read the little shit's mind. Something among the lines of _yes, you are stupid_. He wanted to punch him. "Probably not." he finished, and the feeling increased tenfold. He would face the charges for child abuse, he was gonna wail on this kid if something was fucked up. That honestly should have been his clue.

They pushed back the screen door to the Snack Shop, the lights a lowly dim and softening color. It wasn't hard on his eyes from the evening life of Kabukicho, but nor was it any darker. Tama was at the bar talking to Shinpachi, while Kagura and Catherine hovered over Otose at the hot pot. Hijikata was also sitting at the bar with his two best friends, Kondo and mayonnaise, and seemed to be the mediator between his Chief and Otae, though Kyuubei seemed to be doing a good job as well. Their arm never left her elbow, the light brush of fingers enough to keep Otae's temper under control. Gintoki sighed; seemed like Kondo _was_ that stupid.

When Kagura noticed him, her hands didn't stop gripping the edge of the table where the hot pot was, she only screamed at him from across the room. "Look Gin-chan! Questionable space beef!"

Gintoki couldn't help the grin that stretched over his face, despite wanting to remain impassive so he could retort appropriately, but he was struck with the familiarity of it all. When did this stupid shack along with these idiots become his home and family? The comfort filled him to the brim, the calmest he'd felt in years without having a drink first, and all at once it evaporated. Otose casually placed a few strips of "beef" into the hot pot, instantly spitting and hissing from the heat. It wasn't the sound that stopped him dead and wiped the smile off his face; it was the immediate, putrid scent of the meat. The smell wasn't like it had turned, but as if everything was too hot and it just burnt to a crisp the second it hit the pan. The smell instantly filled his nose, clogged his ears, clouded his eyes, filled his head. There was nothing but that smell and he _knew_ that smell, that smell, _that smell-_

Gintoki blinked and blinked until the grime finally fell from his eyes. He only made the mistake once of using the back of his hand to try and loosen it before his stained knuckle-guards made it worse, spreading everything onto his face like a preschoolers camouflage. This time he didn't know if it was mud from the trampled, blood-soaked earth, blood from others slain, or from the warm rain that didn't seem to make him feel any cleaner. They had barely been enlisted for half a year, just met a weirdo named Sakamoto who had the most annoying laugh, but brought a humor they all needed as well as more soldiers to die, and up until this day Gintoki had thought the worst thing that could happen on this battleground was die. But fuck, had he been naive or just hopeful?

The dark plumes of smoke drifted skyward, ensuring that all those that stood underneath it were stuck in a permanent night until the fight was over. The only light to see by was the flames that ravaged the X-shaped pyres that were everywhere he turned. When they had gotten here, they hadn't been lit and Gintoki didn't know their purpose, was just content with maneuvering around them until he found himself far enough away. Now, he had worked his way back, but the fight had turned him all around. The heat of the flames dried all the moisture from his skin, he felt so hot he might just sweat to death, if the smoke didn't choke him first. As he took in the sight, he thought maybe he had fought himself into another battle entirely, but no. These were his comrades, the soldiers he slept beside and ate with, fastened and left to hang from the pyres. Gintoki had wondered where that sulphurous smell that burned his nose along with the recognizable smell of charred meat was coming from; now he wished he didn't.

The men's bodies were falling apart at the seams, like they'd been clumsily stitched puppets from the start. The flesh and fat of their bodies had been seared until all that was left were the bones to break away at the joints. Gintoki couldn't tear his eyes away from the samurai closest to him, his heart tight and stomach full of bile. It could've once been Zura, or Takasugi, or Sakamoto, but now it was just the frame of a person falling apart. The skin that remained was blistered red before charring, holding on for dear life like tissue paper. The hair was all burnt up, leaving behind wispy strands that were eaten up too and he couldn't help but stare into the blackened eye sockets, wondering if he really did recognize the face staring back.

Dozens upon dozens of pyres all crackled, hissed and spat the same; a constant, layered symphony of men burning alive, screaming as Amanto strung them up and lit them and-

His sword wasn't drawn. Why wasn't Shouyou's sword in his hand, the familiar weight of it a comfort and reminder to fight and keep fighting. He was going for the sword at his hip, drawing with his left hand, before he felt fingers brush his other sleeve, a hand almost gripping his arm. He tore it out of the assailant's grip, before pressing the blade to their throat and pushing back, but something stopped the body from moving any further. There were a few things that stopped him cold from pulling upwards and letting the blade do the work.

The man was faceless, the sword was the wrong weight in his hand, and he could hear someone talking, almost calling his name, his _real_ name and not just Shiroyasha. It took longer than he would have liked to realise that it wasn't raining, that it was sweat running down his neck and that he was snarling in Sougo's face like a savage dog. His bokuto was pressed into his neck hard enough that if it had an edge it would have cut deep, and he had him pushed into the bar as far as he could go. As soon as he realised where he was his mouth snapped shut, he took a step back and lowered his bokuto, unsure. The battle had seemed so real, the sweat all over his body and racing heart a testament to that; he had gone into full battle mode without commanding himself to, and even now, even though he wasn't there, hadn't been there for _ten fucking years_ his body felt dirty, like he had been just scrimmaging through the muck. Gintoki looked at Sougo, who for the first time showed surprise and was rubbing at his throat. He didn't look accusatory like a normal human being should, but he could feel the gaze of everyone else on the room on him. He couldn't look at them, didn't want to see the look of their faces. If Sougo had expression, what would Shinpachi and Kagura look like? He just had a fucking meltdown, had drifted completely out of reality for the first time in so long, and for the first time he had done it in front of people. The room was shaking, or maybe it was just him: the air still felt smoke-thick, and that damn smell…

The clenching of his stomach was the only warning he had, which was enough for him to turn away from Sougo. The least he could do after trying to kill him was not puke on him. He puked up his afternoon parfait before dry heaving the rest. When he used the back of his hand to wipe his mouth, he realised it wasn't the room. It _was_ him shaking. That was the last straw; he sucked up his remaining courage to look Otose in the eye, who out of all of them had seen him at his worst, and spit out a weak 'sorry' before running away.

Gin couldn't drink enough to sate the nightmares; that night, he was strung up to burn like the others and he didn't give those bastards the satisfaction of his screams.

* * *

Shinpachi knew that Kagura didn't understand, which was the most bizarre of all considering her dysfunctional childhood and family. Considering that berserk was normal for Yato, he wasn't all that surprised. When Gin-san didn't come back by midnight she asked him to stay (he would have anyways), but he didn't think it was because she was scared. Even if she was, she'd never admit it, but that's besides the point. He knew what she was feeling, because he felt it too. The shame at orchestrating the whole thing, and the anger he had at himself for not acting sooner when he saw what was going on. He just sat there, watching the whole thing unfold like some kind of horror film. The only real regret that he had was that they even agreed to the whole thing; his penny-pinching ways had caught up to him! Trusting that Gorilla-stalker was against his better judgement, but a free meal is hard to pass up, especially when they had to feed the bottomless pits that were Kagura and Sadaharu. Kagura had squealed at the mention of meat and even Sadaharu perked up. That was how he knew that if he left to find Gin-san that there would be nothing left for them without supervision. Sougo volunteered because he didn't want to eat anymore ("of that shit" was what he muttered under his breath). That should have been his hint that it wouldn't go well. Now he just felt sick at the idea that he was so excited about the steak to begin with. Worse, Shinpachi didn't know if the head officers of the Shinsengumi seeing Gin-san's event was the reason it was midnight and he still wasn't home, or if it was because Shinpachi and Kagura had seen it. He wished it never happened at all.

He didn't realise what had caused it until afterwards. It happened so fast, with Kagura excitedly calling out to him one second and Gintoki responding with a crooked smile that was so genuine and _rare_ , then the next second Otose had placed the meat in the pan, and his aura changed with it. Shinpachi was sitting close enough to him that he could feel the atmosphere alter; the safe, comforting feeling of being in a place so familiar with friends they all trusted so much they could be family had been broken like a glass shattering. Instantly, the air tensed around him causing the hair on his arm and neck stand up while also subconsciously quieting the room. When he turned around, he saw the looks on Kondou, Hijikata, Kyubei and his sister's faces; he knew that they felt it too. The instant sense of danger Gintoki gave off was infectious. It wasn't that they were feeling _he_ was dangerous, but the sense of impending doom he gave off had Shinpachi's skin crawling and gave the urge to check over his shoulder, or watch the door. Shinpachi watched as Gin-san's grin fell off his face and was replaced with a blank, surreal look, as if he had fallen asleep with his eyes open again, but upright this time. His skin and face looked sweaty and clammy, there was gooseflesh along his arm, and for a moment he remembered that Gintoki was close to thirty because he looked visibly older. It was a strange mix; his expression looked as innocent as a child's, seeing something for the very first time, but his crows feet and laugh lines came out of hiding to give it away. Everybody was really just looking at him, not really understanding, but it was Otose that knew what to do.

"Fuck!" She spat, the most venom he'd heard in her voice. She snapped at Catherine to get her water, the urgency in her tone enough to make Catherine do it without a single complaint. Otose picked out the beef before throwing it at Sadaharu, the dog inhaling it so quickly Kagura didn't have time to protest before it was gone.

"Granny, what'd ya do that for!" She wailed, looking like she wanted to reach down the dog's throat to retrieve it. Otose didn't waste words on a response, just took the glass of water and doused the hotpot after shutting it off. It spluttered and hissed before settling, the sound of the steam stealing everyone's attention.

It was the Shinsengumi captain's voice that drew Shinpachi's attention back to the two sadists. When Okita called out "boss" to him and Gin didn't respond, his red eyes wide and unseeing, he made the easy mistake of going for his wrist to catch his attention. Otose tried to warn him, calling out a quick "don't!", but it was too late. The second Okitas hand made contact with Gin's arm, maybe before even, the man seemed to come back to life possessed. His sword was drawn faster than anyone could blink, his speed unnatural even when drawing with his left hand. Okita tried to step out of the way, but Gintoki was too fast for him. His face was twisted into a snarling look of rage that was shrouded mostly by his yukata sleeve as he pushed Okita back with only the edge of his sword pressed into his throat until his back hit the bar hard enough to knock glasses over. Shinpachi's mouth dropped open at the violent change of events, and everyone else seemed to be too shocked to do or say anything. The only one that kept their composure was Otose who was calmly, but firmly calling out Gintoki's name. At first, Shinpachi didn't think that Gin-san could hear her, but he slowly seemed to come back to himself.

Gintoki was sweating profusely and was close to panting, the hair at the back of his neck was plastered to his skin. Shinpachi watched as recognition dawned in those dead eyes and almost just as quickly as he had come at Okita he stepped away. Gin lowered his sword, but didn't put it away. Shinpachi's gut filled with a terrible, dreaded feeling. Never had he seen Gintoki look so confused and unsure, like he was an actor on the wrong set. He couldn't tear his eyes away from Okita and Shinpachi had a feeling he should get him a glass of water, or make him sit down, or anything. Before he could do any of those things, Gin turned and heaved, bile splattering the floor. He could hear the man gag and gag like his stomach was trying to wring a dry cloth. He stopped eventually, his shoulders shaking. Kagura was getting to her feet, ready to go to him, but when she was halfway across the room, Gin turned. His eyes glossed over her, missing everybody else in the room but Otose. He blurted a quick apology and was gone, leaving them all in stunned silence. Otose was the first one to break it. She grabbed the container of meat Kondo had brought and thrusted it under his nose, the old woman towering over him in every way other than stature. "Take this. Never bring that cheap shit here again." She went to turn away after he took it, but something seemed to come to her mind, and she pointed a long, bony finger with a sharp stiletto nail a centimeter from his eye. "If you tell anybody what happened here, if I hear a damn thing about this leaving the room, I'll sic his kids on you." It wasn't much of a threat, but he, Kagura and Sadaharu all perked up. Kondo laughed nervously, but promised.

When thinking about it now, hours later, he realised it had to be the smell. It didn't smell like any meat in Edo that he'd encountered, but there was nothing else unusual about the situation. Nothing that he could tell anyways. What did he know, he was just a kid and had no idea what soldiers went through. In fact, Gin and Katsura were the only veterans he knew, other than Saigo, who he didn't know very well. Many had been shunned and shamed until they were executed. It didn't help that anyone harbouring a Joui rebel would have their head on display too. This meant that even though he would expect soldiers to display anxiety and other things after the war, he'd never seen it. Shinpachi should have known, in the end. Gin-san was sometimes quick to temper, or sink into a depressive or irritable mood. He should have known that there were underlying reasons he was this way, instead of just chalking him up to being weird. He wasn't always this way, so it was easy to brush off.

He slumped his head and rested it on top of Kagura's, who was pressing next to him. The comfort and heat of the blanket didn't stop the chill that he couldn't get rid of since that dinner. "We have to be more careful, Kagura-chan."

Her voice was carefully blank, but it seemed as if she was ready for him to say something. "If we tiptoe around him, he'll get mad."

"I know. He's not fragile, or broken or- or anything like that, but we need to be there for him. We should talk to Otose about how to help him if he ever gets like that again, or how to prevent it."

"What if he doesn't want help?"

Shinpachi shoved her with his shoulder, annoyed by the deadpan voice. "If we had a problem and we wanted to do it alone, but it was too much for us, do you think he would let us shoulder it by ourselves?"

She didn't respond, didn't need to because she knew the answer already. Plus, he could see the droplets hitting the blanket. His were too, there weren't any words that they needed to say.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _"Sometimes I look inside myself, and I see a monster_  
>  _Who's really not too tough to kill_  
>  _Just nobody wants to"_

One slip and he was at the bottom of the hill again.

Fuck it, he was too drunk to come up with a better scenario, but simply put, that was what it was. It had taken years to overcome those feelings of constant mistrust and anxiety; a slope so steep he couldn't climb it without Otose the first time. It didn't go away entirely; he always felt better facing the door, he was always waiting for the sound of blade being drawn, always trying to understand a person's ulterior motives (there always had to be something, people didn't change). Gintoki could live with those feelings, he could cope with them, but there was something that kept nagging at him. How could he go to her again admitting that those steps had been pointless, absolutely meaningless, and that his stumble was due to a piece of fucking space meat? How could he go back there knowing that something, _anything,_ might set him off? And it wasn't even the kind of meat he occasionally liked, nope, he was cursed to have gazes feel like ants on his skin; the touch of a warm hand, hot breath on his neck, now that would only lead to somebody getting stabbed. Usually, sex was what he turned to when shit got this bad, but now the idea of a stranger seeing him weak and emotional just turned his stomach. Wouldn't be such a big deal if he had control of his emotions, but that was out the window. Otose already knew that about him anyways, how he normally liked chasing tail to forget what was chasing him, but would always stop at the first sign of seriousness. Now, a quick fuck wasn't gonna help him. So that left one option: might as well have another drink.

"Oi," he slurred at the third bartender that would probably kick him out tonight. "One more ounce for Gin-san, alright? I've had a bad day."

The bartender looked skeptical, but reached for the bottle. A voice stopped him before he could grab the neck. "You don't need anymore, Gintoki. When are you going to go home to those kids? It's been three days." He couldn't help but scowl. The main person he was trying to avoid, and for being so on edge since his… dissociation… he didn't even notice she'd sat next to him. If he was capable of being able to gauge how drunk he really was, he wouldn't be surprised.

"Grannies should mind their own business," he tapped his glass on the counter, "Another please." The bartender definitely looked concerned now, just cleared his throat and declined. Gintoki sneered at the look, knowing exactly what he thought. Another drunk here to runaway from his wife and kids and responsibilities, and fuck didn't he obligate enough of those things? Gin could launch himself at him, the anger so quick to bubble in his chest. He turned to Otose instead, intending to lash out but stopped at the look in her eyes. She didn't look anything like he expected her too; angry, maybe annoyed or frustrated, but definitely not tearful.

"I'm sorry, son."

He gaped at her, the cup slipping in his hand and clattering onto the tabletop. He was stunned, the anger draining away and leaving him feeling empty. Why was it that she had to bring it up? Why couldn't they just leave it until Gintoki drank the memory away and denied it ever existed? He could live with that smell, that burning image of the war, but those kids faces… He tried not to show it, but he saw Kagura's face, looking like she wanted to hug him and never let go, and Shinpachi. The boy was right there, he would have had a front row seat. Gin had slammed Sougo into the table only two chairs down from where he was sitting. He had done it, he was the culprit, so why was she apologizing? "What do you have to be sorry about, Granny? It was your voice that brought me out of it."

"It happened before, when I bought that meat from the market. You remember, don't you?"

Gintoki didn't say anything. He remembered, how the situations were pretty much identical but without the humiliation of being in a full room. It had just been them, alone in the shack and Gintoki hadn't had cooked meat for the longest time. Not since out in the country, where he could find his own creatures to eat, but he tried to stay away from things _not fish_. It had been way worse in a different sort of way; he hadn't gotten violent, but he knows he cried. She kept going like he had said something anyways. "I was smart enough not to touch you, unlike that stupid boy. You were just gone, but I sat and talked at you until you came back. I should have remembered."

"It's been years," he said before softly, "I thought I'd gotten better."

Otose now looked angry, mood shifting as fast as Gin's had. "You have gotten better. You were a recluse, and a purposeless ghost. You're not like that anymore, Gintoki, you have people you can lean on. So why are you out here haunting?"

He ran his tongue along his teeth, wondering how to say it without sounding weak. It wasn't obvious? She was looking at him like she wasn't going to leave without an answer, so he took in a deep breath and spoke what was bothering him, a thought that had been weighing him down for three nights. The reason he couldn't go home. "What if it was one of them?"

"What?"

He turned and glared at her, "What if it was Kagura or Shinpachi? What if I had stabbed them, or hurt them, and I didn't know it. What if it happens again and it is them I'm attacking? How is that me getting better?"

"So you're avoiding going back because you don't trust them to be able to take care of themselves _or_ you? That's good, I'll go let them know."

"No, _you_ don't know. I strangled men to death with my bare hands, and drowned them in the dirt, I broke their necks and cut off heads, I once maimed four men and Amanto on one polearm in a single go and I was _proud of it._ What the fuck makes you think they should be around me?" _Especially_ _if I can't tell what is reality_. He was drunken slurring, he knew it but he babbled on anyways, desperate for her to see what he saw. He missed Otose pulling out a cigarette, and the bartender staring at him in horror. For a quick second, he was reminded of his own parents. His Amanto parent had tried to kill him almost immediately after birth before killing his father instead. That was what he was born from, surely that had to mean something. He didn't know a damn thing about parenting and should not be trusted to be giving those kids advice.

Otose sat there and dug for a lighter, before finding it and lighting her smoke. "It has nothing to do with what I think, it's what they want. Those two have been waiting for you this whole time, and you just come to sleep before disappearing before they wake up. Stop running away. So what, you enjoy a good fight? You've never fought just to gain something for yourself, that's what matters. That's what you're teaching them. _Not_ to do what you did. Do you get that?"

Gintoki scoffed, "What are you talking about? Kagura gets more like me every day, it's terrifying."

"That's what being a parent is. You have to teach them and then let them grow. Kagura will learn her own way, same as Shinpachi. Kids leave then they come back to you, if they're good."

He scoffed, "What do you know about being a parent."

"I have one, bull-headed son, I know more than you think."

That made Gintoki pause before bursting into laughter. That was the second time this night she had called him that. This Earth had taken away his first parents only to give him a father, and now it seemed a mother. He rubbed his head, the curls droopy and oily from lack of washing and the sweat of three days clung to him probably as much as the booze. He suddenly felt the urge to take a shower, but he looked at her pondering something else. Sons should never lie to their mothers, right? There was something else, something that shouldn't really matter to him anyways. He made the choice, and it wouldn't have helped him anyways. He would still have gone nuts whether he'd destroyed the sword or not. "Can I tell ya a secret?" he asked, knowing the answer already. She just raised an eyebrow, and he took it for what it was. She wanted in.

He leaned in close, his lips close to the shell of her ear. Something he thought he'd take to the grave held on to the tip of his tongue. He let it go. "I'm half Amanto"

She looked shocked for only a moment before she turned to him, "Is that supposed to change anything?" Gintoki shrugged and threw something else her way just to try and throw her, because at this point did it matter, "I'm also older than I look."

She only eyed him, "How much older?"

"I don't know, ten to fifteen years give or take." Though he suspected years ago those years he spent staying a young boy scavenging corpses had caught up to him.

"Nothing to worry about then, ten is one of mine, boy. Plus, newsflash, you already look like an old man. Why are you telling me anyway?"

He smiled, shaking his head before slipping off the stool, feet surprisingly steady. He reached out a hand, helping her off her chair before letting go. His walking was good now, but he didn't want to bring her down if he stumbled. "Don't know, just wanted to get it off my chest. I threw it away, though. Thank God for that, or I would have really cut off that kid's head."

Otose didn't really understand, she chalked it up to his drunk rambling and walked him home.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> " _you and me know some sheep can't sink their teeth into a wolf."_

"That sword is cursed, y'know."

That wiped the grin off Takasugi's face in a mere instant, and the bubbling rage inside him burst out of control like water to hot oil. Said sword was drawn and slicing through the Amanto before he could continue his dribble and was cleaned and put away before the body crumpled to the floor. Damn pirates never knew when to mind their own business, and their insolence had made that the sixth victim this week. It's only Wednesday. He pulled on his pipe and exhaled, turning back to the window. At least the endless sea of stars didn't talk. Movement in the reflected glass caught his eye, but he didn't turn around.

"You've killed another one already? My, my, even when he told you the truth."

That annoying Yato bastard's voice was so cheerful it grated his nerves like nobody else. Despite being quick to temper, Takasugi wasn't stupid. Even he wouldn't dare to challenge that red headed freak unless he had a death wish. He took another pull to feign disinterest.

"It's not cursed."

"It is. There's a soul trapped in there."

That did it. The k-chick of the blade leaving it's sheath was the only warning Kamui got before Takasugi was on him like a dog to a bone. The blade was pressed to his throat but the bastard was grinning like he wasn't threatening to kill him. Kamui's blue eyes were staring through half open slits, but that fucking grin was still there. This sword's specialty was beheading and he was seriously thinking of putting it to use.

"You don't believe me? Watch."

Just then, Kamui grabbed the blade close to the end, his blood running down the blade and coating it's shine that he tried hard to keep. He was just about to spit at him that he didn't really give a shit about who was killed by this sword and if he cursed it or not when he saw it. The soul the Amanto had been talking about, a face Kamui revealed by refracting the blade with a small twist of his hand.. The face glinted in the rivets of blood, creating a haunting picture that burned itself into his brain.

Dark skin impeccably smooth and marked by dark blue stripes that only stood out in oddity, and not by color contrast. If you weren't looking for them or saw only in passing, you would miss the two stripes that marred both cheekbones. However, the bright red crescent moon in the center of the forehead couldn't be missed, or the red stripe down his bottom lip to chin. The markings seemed to glow with a sense of hidden power, just like the irises that stared back at him. All of those things plus the ears that tips tapered into points gave away the inhumanness of the creature, but it wasn't an unfamiliar face. In the end, that was what made him gasp and drop the sword like the handle burned him.

It clattered to the ground, but the sound was drowned out by his harsh breathing and Kamui's laughter. "That explains why that man's such a monster. He's an Anuma."

"An anime?" He said blankly, still enraptured by Gintoki's face that stared at him from the blood-stained blade. It was his face, but not. The last time he'd seen him, in the sky above Edo, Takasugi had been surprised how old the man looked. It was as simple as life not treating him kindly, but he looked visibly older than both he and Katsura. The lines in his face were there whether he was smiling or gasping for air, only disappearing when that focused, Shiroyasha look came over his face. That was what he looked like in the sword, battle-ready and ten years younger. Takasugi couldn't believe that he'd never seen it before.

"Well, that too. An Anuma is an Amanto like Yato, born and bred for killing. Well, they don't so much as breed as they do die. They're more extinct than we are." he laughed again, "Actually, he might be the last one."

Takasugi could hardly believe what he was hearing. He expected that maybe Shouyou had cursed the sword, after all it was given away in good faith only to be the weapon that killed him. But Gintoki as an Amanto? In _Shouyou's_ sword? He had always been demonic on the field of battle, but for him to not be human at all this whole time? It was like a punch to the gut. He wasn't any different from the Amanto they had been slaughtering to get their mentor back. "Tell me about them. Why is his soul in the sword?" He stared at it. Shouyou's sword.

"I can't tell you too much about either, but I guess I can tell you what I do know. Anuma are rare, from some distant galaxy far from here. They were well known for being ruthless killers, but they differed much from Yato. Almost all were non-binary, they had no perception of gender or class, you could either kill or you couldn't. They reproduced mostly asexually, and they would all get together to raise the young. There was one minor setback, though," he held up a finger dramatically, "The Anuma parent had to die for the baby to live, and they only gained population from the rare cases of twins. Imagine triplets, it would have been a godsend!" Kamui paused to laugh before finishing. "Once other races learned this, it was a genocide. They waited for them to be children, and slaughtered them one by one. It takes a long time for them to grow up, you see. When the other Anuma realised what was happening, they became sloppy. It was easy after that."

Takasugi could only sneer at the story. Surely, Yato were involved in that, if not Kamui, then his ancestors. What really pissed him off was the tiptoeing around the sword. Whether Kamui thought Takasugi would give some information about it voluntarily, it's connection to both of them, he wasn't going to get it. He wanted an answer before he made a decision. "The sword. Why is his soul in there?"

Kamui shrugged again. "Don't know. He must be half or something because he smells human enough. I saw him take on Housen; he was good, but not Anuma good. He would have been on par if he had the ability. As for why it's in there, that really depends on whether you believe in magic. Anuma are known for three things; near immortality, insane fighting, and the slow ageing thing. They can be killed, yes, but if they're left alone they'd live forever. If he was born here on this planet, most likely completely alone without his race to guide him, he probably would have remained a child for twenty years before getting his growth spurt. If he had help sealing away his Amanto side, would he have done it?"

As soon as the thought crossed his mind, Takasugi knew. If Shouyou had found him and talked him into it, he already knew that Gintoki would have done it. He'd learned that lesson already. Of course they would have put it all into the fucking sword. That reminded him what Gintoki had done with it. Not the beheading, but the discarding of it. Throwing it into the grave like it had not just been his constant companion for almost two years. He thought he understood at the time why he didn't want it, he'd just killed their teacher, but still. It was one of the things of his that they could touch, could keep, other than just their books. That was why Zura didn't say a word when he picked it out and wiped it clean, before sheathing it and placing it on the ground. They finished burying him like Gintoki had asked and that took almost as much work as to fix the blade after the idiot had hacked the ground with it. The sword now held a whole new meaning. Shouyou had given Gin a gift; was he sour enough to take it away?

"What would happen if I destroyed it?"

Kamui didn't look surprised, only smiled that smile of his. He looked smug like he knew this is where the conversation had been going from the start. "I would assume that the soul would return to its owner with nothing to bind it. Can't say I know for sure."

Takasugi had a dream that night, a day from old where he and Zura had been studying in the courtyard. They were all close to thirteen, had moved with Shouyou a few times, but he didn't mind. He could hear everything that was going on, and was constantly paying attention to his surroundings. Zura liked to zone out into his books and often missed the rumours or Gintoki's jibes. Today he was missing a peculiar conversation between the lazy student and their teacher. He rolled his eyes at the beginning, thinking that he was trying to get homework answers after not paying attention all lesson, when Shoyou's gentle laugh got his attention and he focused on what Gintoki was saying.

"I mean, is there something wrong with me? I don't feel like it should be growing there."

Shouyou's eyes were glistening like he was trying not to cry and was hiding his expression behind a hand. His voice was shaking, but he replied nonetheless. "No it's normal. Don't worry about it."

"Normal? Is it normal that it's white as an old man's down there? Is that normal?! When I asked if you adults go through anything weird, this is exactly what i was talking about!"

"I don't need to know the curtain matches the drapes. It's normal, you've seen men get it on their faces!"

"Yeah, but does this mean I'll get it on my balls? My asscrack and back? I don't want to look like a monkey!"

Shouyou was fully laughing now, drawing the other kid's attention. Only Gin could make him laugh like that, and it soured Takasugi's stomach with envy. When he awoke, that feeling was still churning in his gut and he knew. Gintoki could have saved Shouyou with that power, could have destroyed that sword and the Bakufu with it. He threw the blanket back and got to his feet, reaching for the sword that he kept near the bed. Ways to destroy it passed through his mind, all more destructive than the last. He decided that he would smash it, and if he could still see his face in the blood, he would put it in the incinerator. That thing burnt so hot, barely any ashes were left. He grabbed a golden coin off the dresser, shuffling it in his fingers. Takasugi left the room with his goal on his mind and followed the sounds of voices. Amanto were generally loud and his Kihetai could be quite tiresome. He didn't really want to involve people that would think about it too much. Keeping this on the downlow would be best until he figured out what the consequences would be, if there were any.

He came to a big hall that had bars along the walls and gambling tables in the centre. He didn't care too much for the scene; the hot-temperedness of losers and the annoying crowd of drunks was enough to make him pass on every coming here to play. The only advantage to this place was the variety of people trying to make a quick buck. He spotted one Amanto in the far corner with a huge hammer strapped to his back. It was almost too big for him to lift (it was definitely taller than him, but he'd never say it in words), but it would get the job done. He slapped the coin on the counter, getting the Amanto's attention. It was pretty much a giant, walking talking bull. "What?" it asked gruffly, eyeing the coin with interest.

"Let me borrow your weapon to destroy something." The bull-man just stared at him before swiping the coin and unholstering his hammer. He grinned before passing it to Takasugi, who gripped and held it with one hand to the creature's surprise. He unsheathed his sword with his other hand and propped the hammer on his shoulder. He didn't think of putting blood on the blade before getting the hammer and was stuck thinking of a way around this before a scrimmage at one the tables pushed an Amanto into him. A volunteer, it seemed to be. He grinned and slashed the sword, cutting the Amanto hip to shoulder. The spray of blood warmed his face, creating a tickling sensation as it dripped down his cheeks. He kicked the Amanto out of the way of where he planned to put the sword, his body causing Amanto to yell and scatter where it landed. When it was on the ground and he was staring at it for the second time that night, he finally understood why so many people had commented on it. The eyes were staring right at him, a glare so piercing it seemed to cut through the dimness of the room. He gripped the hammer's long handle with both hands and grinned. Gintoki didn't want to fight, didn't want to face that he was living in a world better off destroyed, didn't want to face the looks of being one of those monsters? Well, he wouldn't give him a choice.

Takasugi swung, the sword shattered, and the eyes closed.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _"-That's why I said I relate,_
> 
> _I said we relate, it's so fun to relate!"_

Kagura was drifting in a stubborn, restless sleep that was more of a flurry of dreams that doubled as memories than anything. She dreamt that Papi had left, but returned as a giant white dragon like the one from Spirited Away. He carried her away from her home planet, and they cruised the galaxy together. It was beautiful, and it was all she ever wanted was to go with him and explore. She was filled with pure joy, but only for a moment. He did a 360 spin and she fell off his back, plummeting to earth like a meteor. When she crashed into the surface, she flattened all the buildings for miles around her and turned the entire city to dust. Kagura could only wander, coughing and calling out. The silence was deafening, and she felt as alone as she did back home. In the end she found the tallest piece of rubble she could find and perched on it, keeping a lookout for anything familiar. The smoke was so thick it shrouded the sun and choked her throat. After being there for what felt like hours, she began to breakdown. She couldn't help but hold back tears until they overflowed. Dust coated her wet cheeks, and she felt like a dirty, horrible person.

"I destroy everything," she cried, burying her face in her arm. A voice seemed to cling to the wind, soft and breathless, and she seemed to remember the words it said…

"Don't worry, child. We all do."

She knew that voice, that was Gin-chan, sounding sad but honest. Kagura didn't think that Gin-chan could sound like that, between his constant complaining and yelling or silliness there was barely time for his serious side. It was impossible to imagine him sad or crying. She looked up in surprise and she was no longer in the middle of all the destruction, but in her closet. It seemed like a dream within a dream before she realised it must be a memory. Red eyes were looking at her through a crack in the door, and she'd forgotten seeing that expression until she saw it again. His face was pulled taught like he was grinding his teeth and his hair was a scattered mess like he just woke up. The only light was coming from the street behind him, but his eyes glowed like they had a backlight. His bare arm pushed the door back a bit more before he pushed his finger on her forehead, the tiniest bit of pressure enough for her to plop back down on the mat. He grabbed the blanket and hiked it up to her chin before tucking it around her body. She felt like a bug in a tight cocoon and the fear from the nightmare was gone as quickly as it had come, replaced instead with the comfort of his soft touch and gaze. His hand was warm on her shoulder and she giggled when he rubbed a rough, scared knuckle on her chin. Her eyes began to droop, but she tried to focus on him, not wanting to go back to where she was before. "What if I do it again?"

"Then that was the way it was meant to be. Just try your best to fix it. Sometimes you can't, but that's okay too. Go back to sleep."

She remembered falling back asleep in her dreamed dream, and that was where it seemed to end with his eyes like coals watching her and the smallest smile ghosting his lips. Kagura stirred, stretching her legs and relishing in the feeling of her knees popping. Shinpachi was a warm presence beside her and when she yawned and wiped the gunk from her eyes, she felt him stir but not awaken. She blinked, her eyes having to adjust to the darkness of night and when they did she nearly jumped out of her skin. Red eyes were watching her from the opposite couch and his silver hair seemed to glow, but the rest of him was just a frame in the dark. She blinked a few times before recognizing it was really him and not an image from her sleepy brain. It wasn't until her eyes adjusted that she could read his face. His expression was the same from her dream; sad, a teensy bit scared, and looking like he'd rather not be awake.

"Gin-chan?" She asked, wanting him to say something so she would know she wasn't really dreaming. "Why are you sitting in the dark?"

He blinked slowly, oddly cat-like, and his lips moved like he wanted to say words, but his throat didn't want to. She could smell the liquor on him from across the table, but he didn't look entirely wasted like the glimpses she'd had of him the last few days. If anything, his eyes were alert and seemed to stare right into her.

"You were having that dream again," he said instead. She didn't know how he knew, but she nodded anyway.

"You told me not to worry." She saw him shake his head and didn't know if he was trying to deny it or was surprised she remembered at all. She had to say it, it was the only thing that she'd been thinking about, and before she could think it over she said it. "I'm- we're worried about you."

Gin didn't respond like she expected him to. He didn't scoff and say they needn't bother, he didn't brush it off and say she was too young, or walk away like she didn't say it at all. He only stared more, his gaze becoming hard to keep, and asked calmly "why?"

She gaped, wondering what he could mean and what she should say. Because she was scared that he couldn't trust them with the things that worried him, or worried that they might do something that would accidently cause that to happen again? Worried because instead of being around them he would rather drink until passing out? Worried that maybe she can't do anything, but worried more that Gin didn't know that it didn't matter, that they would stick around anyways? She went with the biggest fear of all, hoping it would drown out the rest of them.

"We don't want you to push us away," and it sounded stupid and childish to her own ears. Shinpachi was moving beside her now, their voices seeming to draw him out of sleep. "We want you to be able to rely on us."

Gintoki continued to stare until she thought maybe she'd said something wrong and began to squirm. "You listening, Shinpachi?"

He sat straighter, now at full attention. "Yes."

Gins eyes bore into them, "Don't you ever touch me if I'm like that. You saw what I did. And if I do ever come at you like that, you protect yourselves. You kill me if you have to, understand?"

It would never come to that, they both knew it. They nodded anyways.

Gintoki leaned back slightly like he was satisfied. He almost looked like a sad balloon animal deflating, the words leaving him empty. The intensity in his eyes was gone and she could see that he didn't quite know what else to tell them.

"And no more cheap space meat, alright? I barfed up a perfectly digested parfait."

Shinpachi and Kagura, ever the hive mind, jumped over the coffee table in the dark and tackled him back into the sofa. He stunk like he'd been dunked in a barrel of liquor and they could feel the days old sweat of his skin drenched into his clothes. They definitely breathed through their mouths, but his chest was as comforting as always and he held them like family and they were never letting go.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading, I love any feedback and kudos


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